A grin paints his face, dissolving the remaining doubts about character or intent.  Zyanya often felt nervous in her approach of strangers, quite unable to feel at ease in the gaze of another.  Something about the charm in that expression made her heart flutter, yet her body relax.  The words doled out are ones that remind her of home, with flowery compliments arranged in every conversation.

Despite never having chosen a suitor, in the old world she had many.  Zyanya simply never understood love or even lust.  Many of the men flocking to her side were not drawn to the beauty of her figure, for it had been common among the noble class for delicate frames painted in various pale tones, but to her promising social stature.  While not a King, her father had been well respected in the community.  Through all three of his daughters, there had been a never ending line of males trying to claw their way into that position.  Unfortunately for them, the two elder sisters never agreed to marry (a union full of pompery and celebration yet no substance).

The gleam of her smile dwindles slightly, being reminded of the home she had been forced to leave and all the buffoons she graciously spoke with.  She knew that this stallion had no such intention, being little more than a peasant in this realm.  The dainty mare found she enjoyed the quiet life of someone without social standing.  Before she could correct him, set him straight in his attempts to charm and allure her (even if it were not his conscious choice), the figure of another stumbling, fumbling, nearly crashing into her body sets her face alight with fear.

With a surprising amount of poise for the unexpected event, she sidesteps widely, ears flattening on her skull.  Her eyes, bewildered and wide, reveal no malice.  Bright vibrant eyes like summer grasses peek up from below golden lashes, with a murmured apology half-offered before his attention is turned to her company.  Zyanya is incredulous, once her heart resumes its normal pace, never having been brushed off in such a rude manner.  This would mark the second time she had seen a pegasus up close, which might also be adding to the confusion pooling about her head.

Regardless, all her training from back home goes into placing a smile, less genuine and far more timid, upon her face.  She said she would always be kind, and that she was always honest.  Let's see how she manages it now.

Mercutio introduces himself to Cera, the boy who nearly sent her to the ground.  The gallant stallion before them puts on the graceful show of a bow, reminding her evermore of her former home and her heart catching in her throat for a moment.  Tears, arriving rather unbidden, flow to the surface of her lilac eyes, but do not break loose after much effort to control the emotions as this stallion's actions tug on memories and her heart strings.

"Yes, Mercutio," her voice comes out roughly, though still small, when he addresses her with a question.  "'Tis one of the four herdlands within Helovia."  Rexanna had only recently given her the names and general locations of the rest.  "The Basin is nestled safely in the arms of the mountains to the North."  Her head glances over her shoulder, presumably Northwest, though her sense of direction had never been that great.

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